


Regret

by OneLastMiracle (orphan_account)



Series: Untitled [19]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: After Reichenbach, Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, Dialogue, Gen, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Medic John, Military John, Text Messages, Writing Exercise, army John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:25:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/OneLastMiracle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But that’s what middle of the night raids will do, make you remember people, friends. Regrets too. -JW</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regret

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a series of small drabbles, done for the 30 Drabble A Day challenge. Not necessarily connected, can be read as a standalone or small parts. All stories are not necessarily in the same universe, so there may be little to no continuity. Enjoy!

What is the estimated date when you’ll return? It's dull here. SH

Six months or so. -JW

No. SH

Come home now. SH

Yes, let me just leave. Never mind being listed as AWOL. -JW

Besides, I’m needed here. -JW

You’re needed here too. By me. SH

Sherlock, you can’t call me home from war because you’re bored. I’m saving lives. -JW

I also may or may not have decked Anderson earlier. SH

Coincidentilly, I’m also banned from cases for a while until his nose is fixed and healed. SH

Good to hear about Anderson. Maybe it will teach you restraint in my absence. -JW

He mentioned you. -SH

And I was in a bad mood to begin with, so I just did it and knocked his arse flat. SH

I don’t think I understand; you decked Anderson because he mentioned me. Why? -JW

He mentioned you in an insult, of course. Normally it wouldn’t have affected me much, but I haven’t seen you in 2 months 3 weeks 1 day and 3 hours. SH

And you said you wouldn’t miss me. -JW

By the way, it’s been 5 hours. Time difference. -JW

I said it wouldn’t deter me in way of cases. I’ve managed without you before we had even met. SH

Ah, 5 hours, thank you. SH

One of us has to keep track properly. -JW

Look on the bright side: I could come home as early as tomorrow. -JW

You won’t. I know it. SH

You're a good soldier, and a better doctor; they need you. SH

A complement from the world famous detective, Sherlock Holmes? Unheard of! -JW

And perhaps you’re right. But accidents happen, Sherlock. Especially in war. -JW

I could be shot tomorrow or in a month or never. It’s chance. -JW

I don’t want you coming home tomorrow in a fucking coffin, John. SH

I didn’t the first time. -JW

I don’t plan on it the second. -JW

You returned the first time with a scar on your shoulder with nerve damage, which has yet to heal, and an deep-seated case of PTSD. SH

You only specified that I return home alive. And that still qualifies as alive. -JW

I don’t want you to return a vegetable, either! SH

I expect all limbs intact and no cerebral damage, understood? SH

I’ll see what I can do, no promises. This  _is_ war, Sherlock. I can’t control it, neither can you. -JW

But if I were shot, then I would have you to heal me again. So it wouldn’t be all bad, would it? -JW

… I suppose, yes. SH

Anyway. How are the cases? I miss your rambling and brilliance. Most soldiers are grunts with guns. -JW

Boring, before I was case-banned. SH

A homicide committed by a neighbor who was in some cult, a theft that was done by drugging the victim repeatedly, and a corpse that could walk. SH

It’s hateful, all of it, with your absence. SH

Well, I’m sorry there’s apparently nothing of interest. Oh, just the walking dead, usual for you. -JW

Or are you telling me you miss me in your own way? -JW

Wait, did Mrs Hudson take away your skull, is that why you miss me? No one to talk to? -JW

I did finish the cases, it just isn’t quite as satisfying without you there to praise me with some form of “amazing” at every turn. SH

The skull is still here, but he doesn’t talk much. SH

You’re absolutely brilliant! Fantastic. Truly a genius!- JW

Does that make it any better? -JW

A little bit. Do more. SH

But you really are. Clever, sometimes too much for your own good. Amazing, how you know everything. It’s wonderful, really. -JW

I miss it. I miss you. -JW

I… I miss you as well. SH

And not just because you reply more than the skull. SH

Good to know I’m not just a replacement head. -JW

Are you still classified as my friend? SH

Not being deranked, am I? -JW

Of course not, you never could. SH

I just wasn’t sure if you still would be considered my friend, seeing as you’re half a continent away. SH

I’m not really familiar with what constitutes as being one’s friend. SH

Since when are you so keen on labeling our relationship? But yes. We’re friends, at the very least. -JW

Friendship has nothing to do with distance. No matter how far I go, or how far you leave, we’re exactly the same as now. -JW

Good. I was hoping as much. SH

How are you faring with being surrounded by sweaty thick-skulled ape-like creatures? SH

Keep in mind, I _am_ a sweaty thick-skulled ape-like creature. Assuming you mean soldier. -JW

It’s … not like I remember to say the least. More wounds, more injury, more death. But I’ve made some mates. -JW

I would trade the sand for London any day though. I even miss Mycroft. -JW

Didn’t think  _that_ would happen. -JW

Gross. SH

But that’s what middle of the night raids will do, make you remember people, friends. Regrets too. -JW

Raids? SH

And what regrets? SH

Ambushes is the more accurate term I suppose. I’m on watch now. -JW

Yes, regrets. Plenty of things. That I didn’t go out more, that I never got married, that I didn’t ask someone out, that I never wrote a book. I regretted you some too. -JW

You regret me sometimes. I don’t understand… SH

You wouldn’t. I wish I had told you somethings, followed you places, protected you better. Friend things. -JW

Ah. I had thought you meant something along the lines of regretting meeting me. SH

Never. -JW

Regretting moving in, regretting staying, regretting befriending me. SH

No, just the opposite. -JW

Good, then. SH

Hold on. I have to check something. -JW

Alright… SH

Be careful, you idiot. SH

I’m so, so sorry. -JW

What is it? SH

What’s happened? Are you alright? SH

Please, please, John. SH

I nnevre reggretted you, Shhrlock. ANd din’t keep my prmise. -w

Srry-jW

John? SH

John what’s happened? SH

John! SH

**[Incoming Call: Sherlock]**

A gruff voice answered the phone: “This is Captain Bard, who is this?”

Panic. “Who is this? Where is John Watson? You have his mobile!”

“Sir, calm down. I- Watson was the medic? He was on watch. There was an ambush… I - we don’t know where Watson was.”

“What the hell do you mean, you don’t know where he is?!” He demanded. “Look for him!”

“Calm down. We’re doing our best, we could only find his phone. He’s currently MIA.” A pause, then “Wait, Collin, is that- shite.”

“Where is he? Have you found him or not, you bloody meat-headed idiot!” Impatience.

“We found him.”

“Is he hurt? Has he been shot? /Is he alive?/”

“Sir, you need-” Another voice interrupted the first. “Sherlock? **”**

“John?” His voice was softer now. “Is that Watson?”

A wet cough echoed over the line. “Toldj'ya war was unpred'able. Got shot.”

“Yes, sir. That’s Watson.” Clarified, as if it needed saying.

“Get you damned hands off the phone and give it to John!” The mobile traded hands, then: “John…?”

“Don’ yell, ‘m here.” Half intentional pause. “Kinda.”

“John… You idiot.” It sounded bittersweet a moment. Urgency found his voice next. “Stay with me. Stay with me.”

“You always said tha’. Callin’ me an idiot.” A low, weak chuckle. “Not ev’n _wit_ me, ‘Lock. Can’t stay wit’ you if you’re not here.”

“I’m here, alright? Don’t hang up the phone, please, stay with me…” Begging, worry. “Are they helping you? You’ll be alright, where are you shot?” Sentiment. “Please, just keep talking to me, John…”

"‘m th’ medic, ‘Lock. The only one who knows medicine… it’s fine. Won’ be long. Bleedin’ out now…Minutes...”

“John, no. No, no, no.” Denial.

“Yaknow… I always thought… when I _did_ go, it’d be wit’ you. I wan’ed it to be wit’ you.”

“Get them to help you, patch yourself up! You’re a soldier, get up!” Bartering. Step 3. “You aren’t going anywhere but to a hospital tent, do you hear me?”

“Can’ fix a ‘gunshot wound in the chest with a bit o’ plaster, ‘Lock… it’s fine. ‘m fine.”

“Oh my God… John—”

He continued as if he had never heard the interruption. “I n’ver tol’ you wha’ I regretted. Wha’ I meant ta tell ya, but n’ver did…”

“Stop it. Stop it right now.” Emotions were aparent now, choking his words. “Shut up, save your breath! You’ll tell me when you get home!”

“Didn’ know you could cry… it’s fine, ‘Lock. Don’ worry.”

“You’ll come home and tell me everything in the world, I don’t care, You’ll come home…”

“I always meant ta tell ya. Thank you. For everythin’. An', I love you. N’ver said it… didn’ wanna…”

“John…”

“Sorry, ‘Lock.”

“Shut up! You’ll tell me when you come home, when I see you because you’ll be okay!” Anger. At himself, at John, at the world. “Do you understand me? You can’t do this, John!”

He was chuckling, but it rapidly descended into violent coughing.  " ‘m not comin’ home. An’ you know it.”

A broken sound echoed in the silence. “I need you… I need you…”

“No. You don’. N’ver did. Bu’ I still loved you..”

“John, no…”

“Hey, one last…. one last favour… please…”

“...What is it, John…?”

“Talk t’ me. Don’ care ‘bout wha’… just… talk…wanna hear your voice…”

“John… No…”A long pause. “I love you…” Finally.

“I love you, I love you, I love you…” He couldn't stop.

“… You too… Always did…” He was getting further away now.

“What have you done to me, John?” The man had never sounded so broken, so lost. "I can’t… You can’t do this…”

Once more, now urgently. “Please, stay with me…!” Groveling.

“Can’… sorry…I… I…" Speaking was so difficult. It was all too difficult.

“You can’t leave me… You can’t leave me, John!”

Silence answered him.

“John…! Please…!”

Another voice again: “I’m so, so sorry, sir. He’s… Watson’s gone.”

**[Call Ended]**

**Author's Note:**

> \- I also owe it to Zoey to admit this was co-written by her. She played the brilliant Sherlock, although I severely butchered some of it. Find her and her awesome art at 203y.tumblr.com-
> 
> Christ that's depressing. I'd forgotten how angsty that was. Well, anyway. If you read it and liked the style, tell me in a comment or something, if you didn't I still want to know, so I won't do it again. Thank you for reading!


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